


Flesh and Blood Magic

by Cats_Obsessions



Series: Unexpected - Fenris/Dorian [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And just Dorian realizing people care about him, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F!inquisitor and Dorian are brotp - Freeform, Family Issues, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, or like dislike to friends to lovers, romance in later fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cats_Obsessions/pseuds/Cats_Obsessions
Summary: Dorian receives a letter requesting he be brought to a family retainer in Redcliff. He never imagined he would be facing his father again, muchless with inquisitor Lavellen and Fenris at his side. It’s a funny thing how trauma at the hands of magisters can bring two people together.Or DAI + Fenris
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus, Fenris/Dorian Pavus
Series: Unexpected - Fenris/Dorian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126691
Kudos: 15





	Flesh and Blood Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series that I am writing out of order, so this is the first so far, but I have one more to post that would come before it. They can all be read as stand-alones though! 
> 
> I tried to mix up the meeting with Dorian's father, so I didn't just copy the cut scene dialogue, adding more details or interactions from the inquisitor and Fenris, but a lot of the fic focuses on events before and after that.
> 
> ALSO all my Tevene, aside from the phrases in dragon age, is google translate Latin. It is the best I can do. Sorryyy

“ _Dorian, I have a letter for you_.”

It was not the way that he had been hoping to begin his day- to find a letter, scrolled in his father’s penmanship none less, requesting that he attend some meeting with a ‘family retainer’- He truly expects Dorian to return after all that has happened. Perhaps that is what upsets him the most.

“I’m willing to bet this ‘family retainer’ is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to the Tevinter.” He grumbles at last.

“He would have a death wish to so much as try.” Inquisitor Ellena is quick to say. She is small and gentle, but much like her magic, there is a spark in her that when ignited burns so furiously. It is something that makes him smile, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

It’s a funny feeling, having someone be protective of him; it isn’t the way his family hid him away from the reality of Thedas or tried to shelter his view of Tevinter to only see the ‘good’ and ‘safe’ parts of it. No, it is genuine care and affection, the thought that someone considers their life better with him around for no reason more than companionship. This is not something he had last time he faced his family, and maybe that is what emboldens him.

“I will go.” He says finally, more strongly than he feels. Dorian’s determination and confidence are truly a façade in this moment, built on the soft presence of a friend and a roaring anger in his heart.

“You don’t have to, Dorian. If you want to just throw it away and pretend nothing happened, I wouldn’t blame you.” She assures him, a comforting hand on his arm.

“I know, and I appreciate that, but I believe it would be best to get this out of the way. If it is a trap, we spring it and leave. And if it is not, we see what he has to say and send him back to my father with a message to shove his letter up his arse.”

The inquisition huffs, a small smile on her lips, “Very well, I will gather a group, and we will head to Redcliff first thing tomorrow.”

* * * * * * *

The early morning sun does little to warm the air, filled with cool mists that roll in from the mountains surrounding their camp just outside of Redcliff. It took some time to get here with all the fighting surrounding the area, but none of those monsters, templars or creatures, can compare to the dread confronting even an extension of his family creates in him. Dorian pulls his cloak tighter around himself in an attempt to calm his shivering body.

“So, let me get this straight-” he hears Varric say to the inquisitor, “We are going to go to a closed tavern because some unknown Tevinters want to have a word with Sparkler, but you want us to wait outside?”

“Yes,” Dorian interrupts “We’ll have our cheery little meeting and then be on our way to deal with whatever other chores Ellena has lined up in the area.”

“Are you serious?” he hears from behind him. The familiar, gravelly voice of a certain elf- somehow Dorian expected he would protest the plan, “Avanna, Fenris. Sleep well?”

This was one moment that Dorian had wanted Fenris to stay away if he’s being honest. He understands why the inquisitor had chosen him to accompany them to Redcliff- he knows Tevene mages and battle tactics better than anyone aside from Dorian. However, what lies inside the tavern may not be pretty and surely will expose more of Dorian’s vulnerabilities than he had hoped. Though Fenris would understand better than anyone, something about the grim truth about his father coming to light doesn’t seem like it would help Dorian earn his trust.

“Kaffas, Altus, you can’t truly believe this is not a trap- Vinatori or otherwise. Do not be foolish and face this alone.”

“The inquisitor and I have thoroughly considered the possibilities, I assure you. We have no- _little_ reason to suspect Vinatori. I am sure the letter is in my father’s penmanship.”

“And you do not believe he could betray you so?” It is not a malicious question, at least not coming from Fenris. It is blunt— _realistic_ —instead. His perspective of Tevinter is that there can be no love between family in the upper echelons of noble mages and magisters.

And he is not completely wrong.

Dorian’s eyes fall to his feet as he searches for the proper answer. For some reason, he doesn’t feel inclined to sugar coat it, “I would once tell you ‘no’. Now, anything is possible, isn’t it?”

The elf is gracious with that- he could use the opportunity to point out the inevitable failure of all magisters in Tevinter to stay righteous, but instead he does not push or prod. “Even if it is not the work of Vinatori, you will be unprepared if the magister attends this meeting himself. I am coming with you.”

Dorian snorts “He wouldn’t waste his time visiting _me_.”

“Then you won’t mind.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Broody?” Varric pipes up. He knows Fenris the best out of all of them, was with him through some quite difficult things, but even Dorian knows the dwarf has a point.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I would never say ‘no’ to giving the Vinatori what they deserve, but my personal affairs aren’t an excuse for Tevene open-hunting season.” Dorian frowns.

Fenris huffs, almost amused by the implication, “I assure you, I will not attack unless provoked.”

“Can we define provoked before we leave?” Varric protests, turning toward the inquisitor for help.

She simply shrugs, “Dorian is the lead on this.”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to deprive Fenris from a chance to remove some Vinatori from Thedas, should the opportunity arise.”

At that, Fenris offers him a smirk “Much appreciated.”

* * *

Dust dances around the dimly lit tavern, streams of sun barely making their way through small windows with dirt-smudged windowpanes. Only a few candles are lit, the chairs placed onto the tables as if the place were still closed.

“Ah, so looks like no one is here. I take it they got bored and left. Let’s do the same,” he says hastily, not so much as stepping further inside the building to investigate.

Beside him, Fenris’ hand hovers over the hilt of his sword, as alert as ever. “We should investigate further.”

“I’d rather not.” Dorian admits, rather bluntly. “I’m- I’m going to wait outside.”

When he turns to flee, Fenris steps between him and the door. There is a long moment in which the elf seems to search his eyes, forest green peering into storm grey. There is not judgement there, but concern, and Dorian is sure that he can see the anxiety tinged by pain in his eyes.

Fenris eyebrows pinch together, “I understand. But we must be certain there is no threat here.” He says, his voice dropping quieter and softer than before, “We will keep you safe.”

The altus nods, swallowing thickly. He knows it’s true, knows his companions wouldn’t lie, but he can’t shake the lingering feeling, like he’s suffocating on land, “I-”

“Dorian.”

He knows that voice before so much as turning to see, “Father.”

When he does look, he finds his familiar face, outlined with more grey in his hair and crow’s feet around his eyes than Dorian remembers seeing last time they met. Surely, the stress of the past few years have taken a bit out of him- though the mage doesn’t find himself caring much.

If Halward is alarmed to see the inquisitor next to Dorian, to see she is a Dalish elf, he doesn’t show it. Rather, his eyes linger on Fenris. The elf positions himself just in front of and to the side of Dorian. Without being obvious, it is a guarding stance. In a moment’s notice, he could throw himself between the mages or lunge at the magister. His father surely knows this, though Dorian is unsure if he has made the connection to Fenris’ past or his reputation as the Blue Wraith that haunted the Tevene trade routes in the year before the inquisition was formed.

“I did not expect your— _friends—_ to be so heavily armed.”

To Dorian’s surprise, Fenris is the one to speak, “Perhaps you should reconsider your actions if you cannot fathom why your son might not feel safe around you- beginning with this deceit.”

“Fenris.” Ellena warns, her hand on his arm as if that could even stop him.

Dorian takes one long look at his father before turning to his friends, muttering quietly “He is not a threat to anyone.”

“Except you?!” Fenris growls out, but he does not move.

“I apologize for the deception inquisitor. I never intended to get you involved.” Halward says. His eyes flick between the two elves, and for a moment Dorian wonders if he even knows who the inquisitor is.

“I am not involved because of you- _I_ would not abandon Dorian.” She says pointedly. In the dim light, her red eyes nearly glow with their tapetum lucidum.

“What exactly is this, Father? An ambush? Kidnapping? A warm family reunion?” Dorian spits. “You wish for me to return home, act as your puppet, live my life as a lie and a fraud?”

“Dorian, there’s no need-”

“I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

“What? Why does that matter?” Ellena asks.

“Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to create the perfect mage- the perfect body, the perfect mind, anything to get them power. I am nothing but a tool to them.” Dorian explains, making no effort to hide the disdain in his voice. “But that’s not all this is about.”

“If you’ll only listen to me- Venite loqueretur ei,” his father fusses, urging Dorian to speak in Tevene at the least to hide his sins from the inquisitor’s ears. “Do not make a scene.”

Dorian almost begins to laugh at the absurdity of it. Hidden in a tavern, out of the sight of his precious Tevene peers, he still cares more for what people think of him than for Dorian himself.

Fenris must have a similar thought as the elf scoffs at the magister, “Et non abscondam. We are going nowhere. Speak or leave. You will not have privacy to uphold your reputation.”

There is realization in Halward’s eyes, “ _Dorian_.”

“You tried to change me!” his voice cracks with the words and the memories they dredge up. “‘ _Blood magic is the result of a weak mind’_. Yet, the second I refused to play pretend for the rest of my life, the second I dared to so much as try to be myself, you willingly turned to blood magic.”

“Vishante kaffas.” Fenris curses under his breath.

“And you believe _I_ am the one who is wrong.” Dorian mutters, shaking his head.

“If I knew that my actions would drive you away, I wouldn’t have taken the actions I did.” 

“Did you consider that when you ordered your men to kidnap me, douse me with magebane and throw me in the brig for the two-week’s sail to Ventus? Or did it only concern you after I escaped from being imprisoned in my own home? Did you only bother to consider the consequences of your actions then? Or do you mean to say that if I had’ve allowed myself to be coerced into your _sick_ plans, you would not second guess your actions even now?”

Behind him, Dorian can feel the surge of power, Fenris’ lyrium brands activating. However, he does not move. His father must feel it, too, as his eyes shift away from Dorian and onto the glowing threat of his lyrium.

“I only wanted what was best for you.” Halward insists, and perhaps that he believes that is true is what outrages Dorian the most.

“You wanted what was best for you and your fucking legacy!” He cannot bare to so much as look at his father any longer. He needs to gather himself- he steps back, as far away as he can get from Halward without leaving as he can just to breath. Deep breathes in and out, he tries to focus on the physical sensations of the room around him.

He feel’s Ellena’s hand on his shoulder before he can bring himself to glance up. She stands near him with concern on her face while Fenris stands between them and Halward, his eyes unmoving from the magister.

“You don’t have to put yourself through this, Dorian. Say the word, and we leave.” She murmurs.

“I- right. You’re right. I just…” he trails off.

“You are waiting for him to say words he will not.” Fenris says, finally turning away from Halward to face Dorian. It might sound harsh, but it is true.

“He has not even apologized.” Dorian admits, disparity all too palpable in his voice.

“He does not admit his wrongdoings, only that his plans did not go through as he had hoped. You have every right to leave.” He says, “However, if you chose to stay, as will I.”

“Me too,” Ellena adds “You aren’t alone.”

Whether it is the sentiment, the situation, or the contrast between his own flesh and blood and those who stand in front of him—those who have every right to hate a Tevene mage—Dorian finds it hard to blink away the tears he dare not shed. A long moment and a deep breath to compose himself, he finally responds “I would like to leave.”

* * *

Outside, Varric and Cassandra are bickering as they wait, as is to be expected. Stepping out of the tavern is like entering a different world- one of normalcy, far from the agonies of Tevinter.

“I didn’t hear fighting,” Varric says cheerily at first. However, his expression quickly drops after he takes in the crew’s expression.

“False alarm,” Dorian says. He tries to smirk, make it a joke in his usual sarcastic way, but he doesn’t quite muster it.

The inquisitor nods along “I have to drop off this package for Lord Woolsey. Then, we can head back to camp.”

It is a long walk, but the sun is shining and birds sing overhead. These turns of events were anything but ideal, but at least he knows rather than leaving the letter to be a mystery.

Dorian feels a hand on his shoulder, then Ellena has hooked her arm in his. She does not say anything or look on him with pity, but she is there for him, just her presence more than he can recall having in a companion in a long time. When Dorian stares at her, he can still see the sparks of anger burning in her eyes right alongside compassion, and somehow, surely unrelated, he can feel his throat tightening.

“Thank you,” He mutters once he is able to get his emotions under control.

The inquisitor looks up at him with a soft smile, “Always, Dorian.”

Once they return to Skyhold, she will find him to talk about it as she always does. She will offer him support through words and allow him to discuss the thoughts and pain he has hidden so deeply inside him for so long, but for now, walking alongside his friends, he finds comfort- _acceptance_ where he never imagined he could.

* * * * * * * *

Fenris finds him holed up in a dark corner of the third floor of the Harold’s Rest. Here, only small flickers of dim candlelight reach him, casting dark shadows across his face to hide the tint of red-bronze across his cheeks.

“The inquisitor said you had declared your intention to ‘drink yourself into a stupor’ after she spoke with you.” Fenris states as he approaches the altus.

“It’s a good way to end a day- especially one like this.” Dorian replies flatly. His mood seems to have shifted from heartbreak to frustration since their encounter with Halward Pavus.

Fenris was prepared for many things at that meeting. He knew enough to know Dorian both did not like the culture of his homeland and had a great disdain for his family. However, as far as Fenris understood, such feelings were common among Alti and their parents. The reality was far more extreme than he could have prepared for.

“May I sit?” he asks.

Dorian doesn’t say anything but gestures to the seat across from him with a nod.

“I- um, I’m not particularly adept at these kinds of things.”

“What? Drinking?” he chides.

“Heh, no.” Fenris huffs in amusement “I judged you preemptively. I apologize.”

“Everyone does, Fenris. At least you have reason to.” Dorian says. There is no humor in the statement, no smirk or laughter. Perhaps aided by the alcohol or dragged down by the events of the day, his walls have fallen, and what is left is a vulnerable, pained man. “I can’t say I would trust an Altus if they strolled up to Skyhold to join us- not anymore, anyways...”

Fenris sighs, tapping his fingers on the table “I try not to let my past control my present, but sometimes it’s hard to escape those feelings. There’s no excusing it- you shouldn’t have had to expose your hardships to me to gain my trust.”

Dorian offers him a weak smile, “You didn’t force me to bring you along, you know. I knew if anyone would understand, it was you. You may not have trusted me, but I knew you cared.”

Fenris huffs, but he smirks all the same “You have been drinking too much, my friend.”

“Ah, there it is!” Dorian grins, “Told you.”

Fenris rolls his eyes, “Perhaps.”

“Thank you. For the apology but more so for accompanying- no, _supporting_ me today.”

Fenris nods “There is surely nothing more illustrative of your opposition of the Tevinter tradition than a Dalish elf and an ex-slave standing by your side, ready to defend you.”

Dorian snorts, an unabashed laugh, graceless and so different from how he normally presents himself, and Fenris cannot help but find it endearing, his laughter contagious. “I am glad to be in such good company,” Dorian smiles, “Handsome company, too.”

Fenris giggles at the compliment before he can catch himself, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

He would be lying if he said he never thought of Dorian as handsome. However, his caution around the Altus often overshadowed any more positive thoughts he may have had about him. After the altercation with magister Pavus, and the truths and vulnerabilities it exposed of Dorian, it is easier to see him for who he is rather than as yet another Tevene Altus.

“Most certainly not- then, I would have to lie. I would never lie about such _serious_ matters.” Dorian grins. He gestures to the wine bottle on the table and empty glass, “Have a drink with me. It is the least I can do after this. I actually think you may have frightened him.”

Fenris nods and watches as Dorian pours him a glass. He can’t help but find amusement in that, thinking back to all the years he spent serving mages at pompous parties only now to be served by an Altus.

“One can hope.”

“You activated your brands- is that why?”

Fenris huffs, taking a long sip of wine. It’s cheap and tastes far too much of vinegar, but it is something. “No, it just happens at times. If my subconscious perceives a threat or certain emotions are evoked, they will often activate without my decision.”

Dorian seems to consider this for a moment, his eyes seemingly tracing the lines that stand out brightly against Fenris’ skin. “I am sorry you had to see that- that _mess_. I’m sure you are more than done with Tevene political drama.”

“Your life is not political drama- you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Still…” Dorian trails off, his fingertip tracing the rim of his glass slowly.

“You do not need to forgive him.”

“I don’t think I can—but he is my father, and I cannot forget that we are family. When I was young and looked up to him more than anything in the world; he taught me principles—at least I thought he did, and then he goes and does _that_. I had hope that I could make a change in Tevinter once. That kind of dream is hard to hold onto when I’ve had to watch all that I believe in fall.”

“Your problem is that you put your belief in those that did not participate in evil; that is a vastly different concept than acting out against it- You’re a good man, Dorian. I do not know anyone who would give up so much for what they believe is right. That’s how you can change things.”

Dorian stares at him for a long moment “Thank you. That means more to me than I think you will ever know.”

A comfortable silence falls between them for a long as they simply sit and enjoy the company. “I didn’t know my family.” Fenris finally says, disrupting the quiet. “I met my sister once; that is when I learned that family does not mean much, if anything, in Tevinter.”

“Oh?” Dorian says, immediately alert and likely far too invested, “What happened?”

“She tried to exchange my freedom for an apprenticeship with _Danarius_.”

“She was a mage?” Dorian gasps.

Fenris nods, taking a long sip of his wine before he continues, “She said that I exchanged my freedom for her and my mother’s, yet she blamed me for her suffering in the grasps of poverty. I have no doubt that life as a free elf in Tevinter was not easy for her, but she aimed to use me once more…” he shakes his head.

“So, all families truly are terrible.”

Fenris chuckles, “No. That is not what I intended to illustrate by telling you that. _That_ is Tevinter. In Fereldan, family is anyone you care about- anyone you are willing to be loyal to. You have a good family here, Dorian.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he smiles, sweet and genuine, and Fenris can't help but find himself thinking he'd like to see it more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm completely consumed with this rarepair right now, so hopefully I'll have more pieces for this series soon! :)
> 
> *Venite loqueretur ei = let us speak alone/privately  
> **Et non abscondam = you cannot hide


End file.
